


Out of Stock

by alisaj



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU - Supermarket, Christmas Sweaters, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, POV Multiple, The only person more oblivious than Derek and Stiles is Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisaj/pseuds/alisaj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles and Derek pine for each other across the dairy aisle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Stock

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure how supermarkets work in America so this is based on my British knowledge! And I just kind of googled it and used the first store name that came up. It's not really meant to be too accurate in terms of the working environment. Focus more on Stiles and Derek ;)

"You're needed in aisle four," says Erica, poking her head into the staff room. "Ew, Stilinski. Do you think you could chew with your mouth closed?"

"No," Stiles replies with a mouth full of food, spitting bits of egg salad sandwich across the table.

Derek screws up his nose and moves out of the line of fire. He gets up, putting his empty lunch wrappers in the bin. Stiles seriously needs to learn some table manners.

"I'll be right there," he tells Erica, who winks at Stiles before disappearing back onto the shop floor.

"I'm telling you, man," Stiles says casually, leaning back on his chair. "She is so into me."

Derek tries and fails not to laugh when Stiles falls backwards off the chair, landing with a heavy thud on the tiled floor.

"I thought you said she wasn't your type?"

"She isn't," he insists from the floor, limbs flailing in the air. "But that doesn't mean I'm not hers."

Derek Hale has worked at his local Walmart store for 10 months now. He moved back to Beacon Hills after he finished college in New York but couldn't find himself a decent job within his field, so he decided to do casual work at the store until he could find a career job. His search for said career wasn't panning out as he'd hoped and he couldn't see anything past cleanups in aisle twelve any more.

Stiles Stilinski joined the Walmart team 4 months previous. He'd strolled in with two other newbies, a fierce-looking redhead called Lydia and a scruffy-haired kid called Scott, who seemed to be Stiles' best friend. Apparently he'd just graduated and was saving up for college or something like that.

Derek had been actively avoiding meeting the newbies (because having to show someone what to do for weeks is fucking annoying) but when Erica strolled into the staff room to introduce them he hadn't had much choice.

When he'd looked up the kid with his hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the doorframe and looking around with an eyebrow raised, had caught his eye. His hair stuck up roughly in what was clearly meant to be the 'bedhead' look (and he definitely pulled it off), his lips pink where he chewed them every few minutes and a smattering of pretty little moles across his skin.

Pretty? Derek had dropped his pen onto the table, abandoning his crossword.

"This is Derek," Erica had announced. "He's manager on dairy. Ignore his face, it's always like that."

Derek had stormed out with a deathly glare at Erica, trying to avoid catching the boy's eye. Well, shit.

Their first interaction went almost as badly as Derek had imagined it might. He was taking inventory in the chiller very early one morning (too early) when the kid came in, grin on his face.

"Hey man," he said, too excited for the stupid time of the morning. "I was told to come chill with you."

It takes Derek a minute to realise the boy was trying to make a joke and he looked up, unimpressed. He sooned wished he hadn't; the cold air was flushing his cheeks pink, his brown eyes sparkling as he continued to grin at Derek. Derek's breath caught in his throat and he cleared it gruffly.

"There's nothing for you to do in here right now," he muttered, looking back down at his paperwork resolutely.

"Aww man, come on," the kid whined. "Don't be boring. I'm Stiles."

Derek looked up and raised his eyebrows. "What kind of name is that?"

"Don't ask me, I didn't name myself," Stiles smirked, whipping Derek's clipboard out of his hands. "So, tell me what's going on here."

Derek couldn't say when it was that Stiles Stilinski crept up on him but it was pretty soon after that first meeting. Stiles would appear out of nowhere and interrupt Derek in the middle of a job, who would then pretend to be irritated and scold him. Stiles would simply grin in response and find more ways to annoy him.

Now it feels like he and Stiles have worked together forever. Derek's deep in thought as he heads down to aisle four, where a woman is arguing with Scott McCall over three bottles of milk that her small child has smashed onto the floor.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you're going to have to pay for those," Scott is saying, holding his hands in the air in a gesture of peace.

"Just who do you think you are ordering me around, huh?" the woman hisses, jabbing her finger in Scott's face. "I want to talk to your manager!"

Her clothes are so dirty that they've all become one faded grey tone and she looks like she hasn't washed in weeks. She doesn't look like the kind of person who wants to pay up and take responsibility for herself and her child. Derek sighs inwardly before wading in to save Scott.

"I'm his manager," he says firmly. "And Scott is right. Supermarket procedure states that broken items must be paid for."

"It wasn't me!" the woman spits, before breaking out into a fit of hacking coughs. Derek resists the urge to take a step back. "It was this little shit."

She cuffs her child round the back of the head and shoves him forward roughly. Derek can feel the anger rising within him, bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He's come across mothers like this before but it doesn't make him any less furious about the way they treat their children.

"If you don't pay for the items your child smashed I'm going to have to call security," he says, his jaw clamping tightly. The woman tries to stare him down for several seconds before giving in.

"Fucking fine," she shouts, grabbing her son by the hood of his coat and dragging him toward the checkouts.

Scott turns to look at Derek incredulously.

"Scott, make sure she pays," Derek says quietly. "And make sure that kid's ok."

He nods and takes off. Derek runs a hand down his face and sighs.

"Scott's knight in shining armour," sighs a voice dramatically behind him. He turns and Stiles is swooning against one of the fridges a few feet away.

"Someone's jealous," Derek remarks, strolling past Stiles so he has to walk and keep up.

"You know it," Stiles replies, hands in his pockets. "If you try and save Erica any time soon I think my poor wasted heart might stop working."

"Funny," Derek smirks.

"I know," Stiles says simply. "No need to remind me."

And with that he disappears into the next aisle, leaving Derek to shake his head and try to fight back a smile.

-

"So we all know what's coming up soon, don't we?" Allison grins happily, staring around at the packed out staff room. 

"Nothing," Derek grumbles. "It's still November."

Allison frowns at him. She's store manager and is trying to come up with ways to raise money for a local charity at Christmas. It's not that Derek's got any problems with raising money for charity but he just doesn't like Christmas. They always put out all the stupid festive items months too early and he knows that in the week running up to the big day stores get stampeded. 

Of course it might also be the fact that everyone forgets that it's his birthday. 

"Don't be such a Scrooge," she pouts, and Lydia glares at him from across the table. Others in the room don't look too impressed with his anti-Christmas nature either.

"Yeah Derek," Stiles says smugly, elbowing him from the seat next to him. "Get into the Christmas spirit. I can just see you in a nice Santa hat."

Derek glares daggers at him and elbows him back sharply, earning himself a pained little "ow" from Stiles. He twists around in concern, hoping he hasn't actually hurt Stiles.

"Sorry."

"So you should be," Stiles pouts, massaging his ribcage delicately. "That's colleague abuse."

Derek snorts. "There's no such thing as colleague abuse."

"Not yet!"

Lydia's fingernails are tapping impatiently on the table she's sitting at and the noise is infuriating. Derek turns around to tell her to quit it when he realises everyone is waiting in silence for them to stop talking.

"When everyone's quite finished," Allison says haughtily, looking down her nose at Derek and Stiles, who smirk at each other. "As I was saying, we need to come up with some ideas in the run up to Christmas to raise some money for the local homeless charity. We've already got down a fancy dress day -"

"Can I be a sexy secretary?" Stiles asks with his hand raised. Derek tries very hard not to think of Stiles in a tight-fitting suit, shirt clinging to his lean frame, chewing on the end of his pen with that infuriating mouth of his - 

"No, Stiles," Allison presses firmly, breaking off Derek's line of thought, much to his relief. "It's Christmas themed."

Stiles deflates, mumbling to himself. "It's not like sexy secretaries don't work at Christmas."

Derek hides a smirk and tries to stay focused on Allison.

"Well I expect to see the suggestions box filled by the end of the week," she's saying, and then everyone is getting up to start their shift or go home. Derek and Stiles don't start for another half hour and just watch the others leave.

"So what's your suggestion?" Stiles asks as everyone files out, sticking his feet up on the table. Derek tries not to look at the long lines of his legs as they strain against his fitting black trousers.

"Um," he begins. "Nothing."

Stiles frowns, leaning back and trying to read Derek's face. "You really are a Scrooge aren't you?"

"I'm not a Scrooge," Derek snaps in annoyance. "Why do I have to get all excited about wasting money buying people presents they don't want and spending time with family that doesn't exist?"

Stiles looks back at him in silence, surprised by the outburst. He doesn't really talk about his family much - as if anyone in town doesn't know what happened to them - so he's not surprised people don't put two and two together about Christmas. Derek blinks guiltily as the silence bears down on him and looks up at Stiles.

"Sorry," he mutters. There was no need for him to snap at Stiles because he was annoyed about Christmas. Even if he doesn't ever shut up about it.

"It's okay," Stiles replies, looking down suddenly. "I - I forgot about your family. I understand how it must be hard for you. I mean, I still have my dad, but my mom..."

He trails off and Derek knows they're both thinking of their lost families. He doesn't particularly like going round and telling everyone that his family are dead so therefore Christmas is stupid, and it doesn't really sit well with people when he does. But Stiles somehow just understands. He doesn't question it, and Derek appreciates it.

"Car wash," Derek suggests, leaving Stiles momentarily confused as to what he's talking about.

"Oh, the suggestions," he nods. "Car wash in Decemeber though? Too cold, probably."

"Oh yeah," Derek mumbles. "Good point. I can't really think of anything else."

Stiles gets up and Derek pretends not to watch his legs as he sweeps them off the table. "Not to worry sourpuss," he says cheerfully, ruffling Derek's hair with one hand as he walks towards the door. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

Derek is glad nobody is around to see him blush. Derek doesn't do blushing.

-

"He's totally cute though," Erica is saying as she stacks milk onto the shelves of the refrigerated aisle. 

"If you say so," Derek says blandly, trying not to appear to interested in the conversation when in fact he wants to throttle Erica with a cheese string.

"You're telling me you don't think he's adorable?" she replies disbelievingly, raising an eyebrow at him. He tries to hide behind the trolley of milk in between them without being obvious.

"I can't say I've ever looked," he tries to sound disinterested. This is a total lie. Somehow Erica knows that Derek finds Stiles more adorable than a big box of puppies and she will not stop trying to call him up on it.

"You liar," she hisses in a whisper. "Half the time it looks like you want to eat him."

Derek's really glad he's hidden behind the milk now.

"Stop talking rubbish," he snipes. 

"Oh, you do!" she cackles, reaching around the trolley to pinch his cheek. Painfully, he might add. "You'd be cute. I totally see it."

"There's nothing to see."

He's strongly embarrassed and is tempted to attack Erica by smacking her about the head with a four-pint carton of milk. That would shut her up for a while and decrease the chances of Stiles ever becoming aware of this. He stands, finding some excuse to have to go back upstairs and check the rota or whatever. Erica just smirks at him knowingly.

Much to his chagrin, he bumps into the last person he wants to see at the moment on the stairs. Stiles is rushing down and tumbles straight into Derek, his chest falling against Derek's so that he can feel the hard lines of his body against his own. Stiles' cheeks turn pink and he disentangles himself quickly, moving a step down. 

"Sorry," he flusters, rubbing at his red hoodie, which now holds the contents of the dinner that was in his hands.

"Watch where you're going," Derek bites unfairly, sighing in frustration when Stiles' face falls in hurt and he flees down the rest of the stairs. He sighs. "For fuck's sake."

He's trying not to get too attached to Stiles, even though he knows it's probably too late now. From the moment he walked into the staff room Derek knew he was going to have trouble keeping his eyes off him and his beautiful mouth (which is just asking to be kissed). He thought for a while that he'd be able to avoid him, and it's not that hard to keep away from someone you're just physically attracted to. But then Stiles wormed his way into Derek's life, became someone that he texted to ask questions about work or movies or anything at all really. They carpooled to work most days when they shared the same shifts, Derek appearing annoyed at Stiles' loud singing in the car but silently quite glad that Stiles was waking him up (he is not a morning person).

He lets himself fall more for Stiles every day. But it's moments like those on the stairs, when Stiles is pressed against him, heart thudding against his chest, that Derek cannot handle. He just wants to shove Stiles against the wall and pull on his hair as he licks into his mouth. And he's pretty sure that's not something Stiles would welcome.

Later that day around five o'clock Derek waits by his locker for Stiles. It's Derek's turn to drive them home. He's nervous, sure their encounter is going to be awkward after how he snapped at Stiles earlier. Sure enough, when Stiles closes his own locker and turns to Derek, his face lacks its usual teasing expression, his voice its happy charm.

"You ready?" he asks dully.

"I - yeah," Derek chokes, following Stiles out to the parking lot with a heavy weight in his stomach. He feels like he's messing things up.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he blurts when they're in the car. Stiles doesn't say anything, fiddling with the door handle. Derek is struggling to speak. "I didn't mean to be rude. Erica was winding me up and I just - I'm sorry."

Stiles still doesn't speak and Derek doesn't continue talking, letting Stiles mull over the words. He wonders if he's going to speak to him at all for the rest of the journey.

"What was she winding you up about?" he asks eventually, looking out of the window.

Derek panics. "Oh, er - puppies," he says quickly. Technically it isn't a lie, but he isn't going to tell Stiles it was actually about him thinking Stiles is cuter than puppies.

"Puppies?" Stiles repeats, a smirk rising at the corners of his mouth. "Hmm. You ruined my hoodie, by the way. It's stained. I'll have to throw it away."

"Sorry," Derek apologises genuinely.

"It's okay," Stiles says loftily. "I suppose you can buy me a new one for Christmas."

Derek laughs. They can't stay mad at each other for long, and just like that they're back to normal, incident on the stairs forgotten.

-

"FIRST OF DECEMBER!" Stiles yells at Derek as soon as he opens his front door.

"Jesus," Derek hisses blearily, wincing at the loud noise.

"No, Stiles," he corrects, yanking Derek out of the house by his wrist and dragging him to the car. Derek's torn between making Stiles remove his hand at once so can go back inside and sleep and relishing the warm contact tingling on his skin.

"I haven't even had breakfast," Derek protests as Stiles forces him into the Jeep.

"It's okay, I made you a bacon sandwich," Stiles says matter-of-factly, passing him a tupperware box as he pulls away from Derek's house. "You need to get a new house, dude. As nice as it is a house in the middle of the woods is super creepy."

Derek tries not to overthink Stiles' gesture of making him breakfast. He probably just knew Derek wouldn't get up on time and made too much bacon by accident.

"It was my family's house. I had it rebuilt."

"That's... nice," says Stiles quietly. Derek hopes the conversation doesn't become morose again. "You must be loaded. Where's my Camaro, huh? I'd even settle for a bottle of whiskey, dude. Or maybe a trip to the cinema."

Derek swallows. Friends go to the cinema all the time; he bets Stiles and Scott go every week. It's not just a place for dates.

"I'll tag along next time you and Scott go and pay if you really insist," he replies with a grin. Stiles smiles back, but it looks wrong.

"Yeah, right," is all he says, sounding strangled and caught in his throat. What did he say?

"So I heard you're stuck in deli with Lydia today," Derek ventures, breaking the silence that had descended.

"Ugh, yeah," Stiles replies immediately, awkward spell broken. "We're on sandwiches. She's going to torture me all day about getting a haircut."

"I think it looks good."

"Aw, thanks man," Stiles gushes, fluttering his eyelashes. "You really know how to compliment a girl."

Derek gives him a shove as they get out of the car and head towards the front doors.

-

Stiles lingers behind Derek as they walk into the store, trying not to be obvious that he's checking out his ass. Derek turns, expecting an answer to something that he's probably just said, and Stiles flicks his gaze up quicker than a dog chasing after a stick.

"Huh?"

Derek frowns. "I said are you aware that Erica signed us up for carolling tonight?"

"Carolling? Dude, I can't sing," he protests, staying behind Derek as they walk up the stairs to the staff room. He just wants to reach out and grab that ass.

"Neither can I," Derek says darkly, slamming his locker and glaring over at Erica, who's sitting at a table with a smug look on her face.

Stiles sits down first, feeling too much like a lost sheep following Derek around. He knows that following him around is making himself look really obvious but he can't help it; he just enjoys the man's company too much. He loves how they've settled into their routine each morning and evening when they go home and hopes that the bacon sandwich this morning wasn't too much.

Derek's five years older than him, he's not stupid. He's seen those abs and the dark hair that frames his face; he knows Derek's out of his league. He just can't help but be pulled in towards him like a magnet, like a moth to flame.

Suddenly Derek's standing in front of him, one hand scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

"Thanks for the bacon sandwich," he says gruffly, before walking right out of the door. Stiles deflates a little. Maybe he went a little bit too personal, maybe Derek wasn't comfortable with Stiles making him food. He feels his face heat up in embarrassment. Derek probably thought he was some little kid making him a sandwich.

Erica snorts from the next table over and Stiles whips around, flushed still.

"What?"

She shakes her head and sighs, blonde curls bouncing across her shoulders. "You two are such idiots," she says in disgust, pity ripe on her face.

Stiles furrows his brows. "Why?" he asks defensively. Erica shakes her head.

"I can't help you on this one," she laughs. "Get to work."

Stamping out of the room in irritation, Stiles' face is soon aching from the frown he's got plastered across it. He passes Derek on the way to the deli who looks at him with concern but he brushes it off. 

"What's got your panties in a twist?" Lydia asks when he bursts in. "Has Derek not taken you against your locker yet?"

Stiles splutters and trips over his own feet, barely missing plunging his hands into a vat of salad cream.

"What?"

"Oh please," Lydia sniffs, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder before pulling on latex gloves. "Ew, these are going to ruin my nails. We all know you can't wait to be ravished."

Stiles is completely mortified. Does everyone know about his crush on Derek? Does Derek know about his crush on Derek?! He tries not to burst into flames of humiliation right there but it's a difficult feat.

"Relax," Lydia drawls, forcing him to sit down and do some work. "He's as painfully oblivious as you are."

Stiles brushes off that comment, trying not to think too much about Derek. Lydia's got him frazzled, making subtle suggestions and comments all the way through until lunchtime, when Stiles tears off his gloves and flees the room before he can be subjected to any more of her torture.

"What's the matter with you?" Derek asks as Stiles flies into the staff room to get his lunch.

"Lydia," Stiles hisses, flopping with exhaustion at the table with Derek.

Derek grins in reply and Stiles is glad he's already out of breath otherwise Derek would have heard the catch in it. Derek's not really the cheeriest guy in the world and he rarely smiles properly; Stiles is glad that he gets to see the shining wonder for all it is because it makes Derek look so fucking gorgeous.

"It's ok, you've got the relief of my company for an hour," Derek replies with a smirk. Stiles doesn't want him to know how much of a relief it won't be because he'll be thinking over every smile and every word that comes out of his mouth.

"Fabulous," he squeals. "Can we do each other's make up and talk about boys?"

"Well what else were we going to do?"

Stiles laughs like he does every time that Derek rises to one of his jokes.

"I can't believe we have to stand for an hour after our shift in the freezing cold singing stupid Christmas songs," Derek mutters, stabbing at his tuna pasta with too much force.

"Come on, it won't be that bad," Stiles reasons, but Derek looks up with a mutinous look on his face. "Look, if you really don't want to then don't bother."

Derek's face is surprised and something else Stiles can't read. He doesn't reply and Stiles can't help but think he's offended him somehow. 

"Stop being such a sourpuss."

He can see Derek fighting back a smile as he looks down at his food.

"Hey there Mr Grumpy Gills," he imitates Finding Nemo, and that cracks Derek up. He puts a hand over his face, his wide shoulders shaking up and down with silent laughter. It makes Stiles beam and when Derek glances up at him they burst into fresh laughter.

"See? What would you do without me?" Stiles says dramatically. 

"I don't know," Derek muses. "Forget to have breakfast? Wake up late and miss work? Not have to do carolling?"

"All of the above," Stiles nods in consideration. "Want to save me from Lydia's wrath after lunch?"

Derek takes a bite of his pasta. "Hmm. Let me think about that. No."

"Aww man," Stiles sighs, resting his chin on his hand miserably. The thought of four more hours of Lydia sends tremors through him, and rightly so. That woman is a force to be reckoned with. "Please?"

He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout and opens his eyes wide, sending a pleading look towards Derek, who stares back at him with a slack face before blinking and looking down suddenly. To Stiles' surprise, he actually nods.

"Fine," he sighs. "If I really have to. It means you'll be stuck in the chiller all afternoon by yourself."

"I literally don't care," Stiles gushes, not believing his luck. "You are the best."

"I do try," Derek says casually, throwing his empty tuna pasta pot into the bin from across the room, glancing back at Stiles with a proud smirk because it went in.

"Fluke," Stiles mutters under his breath, so Derek picks up the empty plastic bottle next to him and does the same thing. Stiles narrows his eyes at him. "Stop showing off your athletic prowess."

He imagines Derek's got high stamina, which would certainly come in useful in -

\- situations that will never exist, Stiles reminds himself quickly before he thinks too far ahead. Allowing himself to imagine him and Derek having sex while Derek is in the room can only end badly.

"It's not my fault I have good aim," Derek shrugs.

"Yeah, well, so do I," Stiles insists, picking up his chip packet and attempting to throw it. Only he forgot that it weighed nothing at all and simply landed on the table in front of him. Screwing up his eyes with laughter, he bangs his forehead on the table. "Oh my god."

"You are useless," Derek laughs.

"You're breaking my heart here. It's totally not my fault I have no hand-eye coordination."

"Or common sense, it seems," Derek points out. "Trying to throw an empty chip packet across the room?"

Stiles lifts his head from the table and narrows his eyes, pointing a finger at Derek menacingly. "You talk about this to no-one, you got me?"

Derek raises his hands in surrender. "I solemnly swear."

"What - was that a Harry Potter quote?" Stiles stammers, mouth agape. "Since when do you like Harry Potter? I didn't even know you knew what a tv was!"

"Hilarious. I'm not that old."

"Only five years older than me," Stiles points out. "In a fairytale that's ten years too close. Seeing as you have a habit of saving Scott from scary customers you can be Prince Charming."

Stiles loves winding up Derek because he knows he doesn't really take it personally. He was even generous enough to offer Derek the position of Prince Charming. He's totally the best person ever.

"Does that make you Snow White?" Derek asks him. Stiles mulls it over.

"Doesn't that mean I have to live with seven dwarves? Sorry to tell you, man, but it's just me and my dad. No hidden small men as far as I'm aware. How about Sleeping Beauty?"

"You aren't asleep," points out Derek. "And people that are sleeping actually shut up."

"Oh Prince Charming, you are so not what I expected," Stiles pouts, sweeping the back of his hand across his forehead. "I'd rather go back to sleep for another hundred years."

He hears Derek mutter "Me too" under his breath and swears at him. "Enjoy the rest of your day with Lydia," he says sweetly.

Derek groans.

When they meet outside the front door of the store for carol singing four hours later, Derek looks ready to wring someone's neck and Stiles looks like he should have an icicle hanging from his nose.

"You didn't dress properly, did you?" Derek asks with a sigh.

"Nope," Stiles replies. "And I think I've got hypothermia. How was Lydia?"

"Don't even ask."

Stiles chuckles, his breath visible in the cold, dark air. He's not even sure what songs they're meant to be singing but Allison is flapping around looking excitable and he tries not to ruin her fun. He shivers involuntarily; he had forgotten how cold it would get wandering around the chiller for hours sorting out stock.

Derek glances sideways at him and sighs, winding his scarf from around his neck and wrapping it around Stiles' instead. Derek doesn't remove his hands from the ends of the scarf right away, meaning Stiles is pulled in close to him. He tries to breathe properly, tries not to panic, but that strong jaw is too close to his face, the long neck that he just wants to nuzzle into now exposed.

"Right, are we all ready?" Allison shouts over the babble of noise, clapping her gloved hands together. A crowd has formed to watch the workers sing and Stiles curses Allison. Derek drops his hands immediately and turns away, leaving Stiles with only a sense of loss and Derek's scarf around his neck.

They just about manage to make it through Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Silent Night, but Good King Wenceslas takes them by surprise and Stiles is aware that neither he or Derek know the words. He knows the tune, however, and makes do by humming nonsense sounds to the melody instead. Derek joins in with him and soon they're wailing louder than the others, the corners of Stiles' mouth actually aching from the effort of not bursting into hysterics.

The song comes to an end and Allison is shooting them daggers but Stiles doesn't even care. He looks around at the people watching who all look amused, so they haven't messed anything up with the charity.

"That was great!" he shouts loudly. Lydia looks just as deathly scary as Allison does right now and Stiles actually turns around to avoid their gazes.

"We are so dead," Derek murmurs from between his teeth, trying not to move his lips.

"I know," Stiles does the same back. "Let's go."

And in the middle of Jingle Bells Stiles and Derek sneak away from the crowd without anyone noticing. Stiles drives Derek home and is almost at his house when he realises he's still wearing Derek's scarf.

-

A week later and Stiles is totally sure that Derek is Ebenezer Scrooge reincarnated. He's downright refused all of Stiles' attempts at Christmas fun and won't even wear the Christmas sweater that Stiles buys him. It's blue with a Christmas tree on the front.

"But it's so cute!" Stiles argues. "Look, I'm wearing one!"

He opens his coat to reveal a sweater with a snowman on it. He's getting a bit fed up of this lack of Christmas spirit, especially as he barely sees Scott anymore (because he's always with Allison) and they can't be as excited together as they usually are.

Derek doesn't reply and Stiles sighs. "Don't think I don't know why you don't like Christmas."

Derek's head whips around, his eyes wide, and Stiles forces him to look back at the road. "Jesus, are you trying to kill us?"

"You don't know why I don't like Christmas," he accuses, ignoring Stiles' jibes at his driving ability.

"Sure I do," Stiles says in a confident tone. "You don't really have anyone to spend the day with. But that's okay. You can come to ours if you like."

Stiles bites his lip. He'd been thinking of inviting Derek over for Christmas lunch for a few weeks but he wasn't sure how Derek and his dad would take it. They'd met before, Stiles was surprised to learn, and knew each other fairly well. Stiles had frowned at his dad for keeping it from him but when he learned that the Sheriff had been the one to inform Derek that his family's home had burned down he regretted it.

And of course he knew that Derek's birthday was on Christmas, but he wasn't going to tell him that.

"You - really?" Derek asks quietly, avoiding looking at Stiles now. "What about John?"

"Dude, my dad thinks you're awesome," Stiles grins. "He doesn't mind you coming over for Christmas dinner. Besides, it's kinda boring playing Pictionary with two people."

Derek doesn't say anything for a few minutes and Stiles adjusts the scarf around his neck. He'd attempted to give it back to Derek the next day, but he'd waved him off and told him to keep it. He said Stiles needed one anyway.

"I'll think about it," Derek says quietly. Stiles smiles.

"Now will you put on the sweater?"

"No."

"Oh man, come on! You're such a spoilsport. I have to wear mine, you totally ruined my favourite red hoodie."

They're still bickering about it when they walk into Erica in the middle of the store. She casts an approving eye over Stiles and his sweater and Stiles feels himself flush at the obvious staring.

"Love the sweater, Stiles," she says with a wink. "Is Ebenezer not going to wear his?"

Stiles glances sideways at Derek, who is scowling. 

"I don't need to wear an absurd article of clothing that's going to make me look like a complete idiot."

"Too late for that, sweetie," Erica sighs, winking at Stiles again. He holds his hand up for a high five and she returns it with a wicked grin.

"Nice one," he laughs, still smiling a minute later when Erica stalks off to deal with a customer arguing about the pricing of fried chicken. "Oh man, Erica is awesome. A cruel, cruel mistress sometimes, but that humour... Don't you think?"

He turns to look at Derek, who is scowling even harder if that were possible. He grunts in reply and Stiles is confused. Was he really that adverse to wearing a novelty sweater? Stiles clutches the bag with it inside tighter and walks ahead of Derek, peeved.

"If you really don't want to wear it then I'll just give it to someone else," he mutters, feeling like a petulant child. He'd spent ages choosing the least silly one for Derek because he knew that he'd be a grumpy so and so, but now he just felt stupid for wasting the money. When he gets to his locker he dumps it in the bottom, takes off his own and goes straight back down to the shop floor.

Later, when he comes back up to finish his shift, his locker is ajar and the sweater is gone. Derek finished 3 hours earlier, so he trudges through the parking lot to stand at the grimy bus stop.

Two days later Stiles is triumphant when he picks up Derek and he's wearing the Christmas tree sweater. He opens his mouth to speak and Derek cuts him off with a glare.

"Don't," he growls, slamming the Jeep door with unnecessary force. "Don't even say anything."

"It's cute!" Stiles insists, smushing his lips together to mask a smile. "Very fetching."

"I look ridiculous."

"Derek, you're only going to look ridiculous if you make it obvious that's how you feel. People love novelty clothing. Try and love people."

Derek's eyebrows are tightly pulled down, making him look angry and annoyed and embarrassed all at the same time. "I do love people."

"Derek," sighs Stiles dramatically. "You are the least people person I have ever met. God knows why you thought working in a shop would be a good idea. Then again, you would never have met me and everyone needs such awesomeness in their life. Especially you."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Positive. Don't try and deny it."

"I wasn't," replies Derek innocently, raising one eyebrow from their death stare. Stiles can't think of what to say to that. Derek's only joking but he likes knowing Derek enjoys him being in his life, despite the fact he forces him into festive frivolities. 

"Good," is all he can manage.

-

"That coat is just lovely, Mrs Thursby," Stiles grins widely as he scans her shopping. "Where'd you get it?"

"Oh, thank you dear," the old lady blushes, fiddling with her purse. "It was a present from my sister last Christmas."

"She has good taste. That's $14.87 please," he adds, waiting for Mrs Thursby to pick out her change at a snail's pace. He tries to keep his patient smile on his face.

"Here you are, dear," she says, giving him the exact change to count out as she takes her shopping and leaves. Stiles wheels his chair around and mutters in the ear of the person sitting behind him at the till attached.

"Why the hell did they put me on checkout?" Stiles hisses, and Scott shrugs.

"Beats me, man. I think they're low on staff - Hello, would you like a bag for those? - and you weren't really down for anything today."

"Bitches," Stiles sighs, slapping his hand on his knee. "Oh, sorry," he feels his face heat up as an unimpressed-looking man waits for Stiles to scan his shopping.

"Are you excited for Christmas?" Scott asks excitedly half an hour later, when there is a lull in customers. "Mom's bought such a big tree we had to cut off the top so it would fit in the front room."

Stiles grins, thinking of Mrs McCall attempting to saw off the end of a tree. "Oh man, I wish I'd seen that. Dad's just got the old fake one out of the attic again. I don't think he wants to get rid of it, though. It fits perfectly with all the old decorations my mom bought."

Scott smiles sadly. "They are pretty nice, dude. I always loved your tree."

"You should get your mom and my dad to sort out something for Christmas day," Stiles suggests, scanning a couple of chocolate bars for a young teenage boy. "I invited Derek over, so we may as well have five of us."

Scott spins around on his chair. "You invited Derek?"

He sounds a bit betrayed and Stiles knows he's worried that Stiles is going to replace Scott's position as best friend with Derek.

"Don't be like that. You're always going to be my bestest pal."

"Good," Scott preens, fiddling with his wonky name tag. "You two are pretty close though," he points out, eyes narrowing.

"I promise he will never take over your place as best friend," Stiles pledges, sticking his hand over his heart for good measure. Scott can be so dense sometimes. Surely he must realise how much Stiles talks about Derek? Derek will never take over Scott's place as best friend, but he might take up the currently vacant position of boyfriend if Stiles' daydreams ever come true.

"Okay," Scott agrees finally. "I suppose having five of us at dinner would be kinda awesome. Me and my mom struggle with charades just the two of us. Hey, I wonder how terrible Derek would be at charades?"

Stiles laughs. "He can't be that bad."

"Dude, I've seen potted plants better at communicating than Derek Hale."

Stiles sniggers and then whacks Scott on the arm when he sees Derek walking along towards them. Catching each other's eyes, the two erupt into laughter and try to shoot inconspicuous glances towards Derek, who is now glaring at both of them indignantly. 

"Man, he does not looked pleased," Scott snorts when Derek's passed.

"Dude, I have to sit with him at lunch," Stiles realises, smirk dropping. "He's going to be moody as fuck."

"Language, Stilinski," Allison hisses as she stalks past his checkout talking to Lydia. "There's a reason we try to avoid putting you on tills."

"Rude!" Stiles gasps. "Did you hear that Scott? I'm severely underappreciated in the workplace."

"Oh, there's definitely someone who appreciates you in every place," Lydia mutters under her breath and Stiles feels his cheeks heat up.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nobody else could get Derek Hale to wear a novelty sweater, Stiles," she replies with an eye roll, dragging Allison away with her. Stiles turns to look at Scott, who's looking equally as confused as he is.

"What's she talking about?" Stiles asks, hoping his bro will lend him a hand here.

"No idea, dude," Scott shakes his head. "Girls are weird."

"Too right," mutters Stiles, snatching the next items on the conveyor belt.

"So I take it you've gone off Miss Martin now, then?" comes his dad's voice, and Stiles' jaw drops open.

"Dad!"

"Hello, son," John says, giving Stiles a weary look. "Look at all my healthy groceries."

He gives a sweeping gesture with his hand along the conveyor belt. It's full of vegetables, salad, wholewheat foods and fruit juices. Stiles raises an eyebrow.

"Did you find my till specifically to show me that you're buying healthy food?"

His dad looks shifty, trying to ignore Scott's beaming grin behind Stiles' head. "Of course I didn't. I could have been subtle and gone to Scott's instead and you'd still have seen it."

"Because I know you're going to stop off for a burger and fries on the way home and there'd better be curly fries waiting for me when I get home or else."

John laughs, running a hand through his short hair. "Since when did you know me so well?"

"Since you're my dad," Stiles replies with a grin, and he's filled with a rush of fondness for their relationship. John's all he's got left, and he's all John's got left, and they try to make the most of things.

"I'm glad," the Sheriff smiles, packing his items into carrier bags. "I should probably get a bag for life soon," he mutters, before looking back up at Stiles. "Did you ask Derek about Christmas?"

"Uh, yeah," Stiles says, shifting in his seat. "He said he'll think about it, which means he probably will. Also, me and Scott -" Scott spins around and declares a cheerful "Hi, Sheriff!" "- were thinking that maybe he and Mrs McCall could come around for dinner too? As we're practically family anyway."

John pauses, staring at Stiles with a fond smile. "Do you know, son, I was going to suggest the exact same thing to Melissa tomorrow. What do you think, Scott?"

"Sounds awesome," Scott grins, before attending to another customer.

"Can't wait, Dad."

"Good, well that's settled then," John says, giving Stiles his card. "You know the number." 

"That I do, daddy-o," Stiles smirks, entering the number and passing the card back. "And don't forget my curly fries!" he shouts as his dad walks away.

Derek is totally grumpy at lunch and Stiles rolls his eyes. Derek is like a moody teenager, pulling sulky faces and never understanding when people are nice to him.

"Will you stop glaring like that? You're gonna make my milk sour," Stiles says, pulling his chocolate milk close to his chest like it's going to protect it from Derek's gaze.

"No," comes the monosyllabic answer.

"Are you annoyed because me and Scott were laughing at you?"

Derek looks down, suddenly interested in the newspaper someone's left on the table in the canteen. They usually avoid the canteen because it has a funny smell, but neither of them had bothered with a packed lunch today.

"You are! Jesus, Derek, stop being such a 12-year-old girl. Scott just said something funny. It's not like we're picking on you. You're too awesome."

This definitely doesn't make Derek look up but his cheeks are now a bright shade of red. Stiles' heart does funny flutters and he feels quite sad that Derek doesn't know how to take compliments. Surely he must realise how awesome he is?

"Come on, dude," Stiles sighs, looking down himself now. "You know I'd never make fun of you in a bad way."

"I know," Derek murmurs.

Well this is super awkward. Neither look up at the other until a packet of chips is thrust onto the table between them and Erica groans loudly.

"What is the matter with you two?!" she hisses, sitting next to Stiles. Stiles pretends he doesn't know what she's talking about; Erica's totally aware of Stiles' undying love for sourpuss Derek Hale.

"ADD," he jokes to cover up his panic at Erica's blatant nature.

Derek looks at him funny. "That's not something wrong, Stiles."

That intense look is giving him heart palpitations, his throat going dry as he tries to speak. "I - I know, I was just - joking."

Erica sneaks her hand under the table and squeezes his thigh with her claw-like nails, eliciting a pained squeal from Stiles, who half-leaps to his feet.

"Jesus!" he hisses, as Erica pulls him back down and leans in close to whisper into his ear.

"Get in there, Stilinski," she says, almost inaudibly. He tries not to blush, fails, and glances at Derek.

He's picking at his food and finally stands up, taking it with him. "I'm not hungry any more," he states, leaving the canteen faster than you could say miserable git.

Stiles stares after him in confusion. They always sit together until the end of lunch, long after they've finished eating. But Derek's gone.

"Can you say jealous?" Erica sing songs and Stiles rounds on her angrily.

"What is your problem?" he snaps. "Can't you keep your nose out of other people's business for five minutes? You're making everything weird and I don't like it."

Erica is taken aback, her mouth still open, a hand holding a chip in front of it. She puts it down slowly, narrowing her eyes and Stiles knows he's in for a load of shit.

"You're the one making everything weird, Stiles. Just tell him about your fucking massive crush on him and get on with it. Quite frankly your obliviousness is making me nauseous."

"You're not even making any sense!" Stiles groans, tempted to pull his hair out in frustration.

"Stop living in denial, honey," she sighs, pulling him back into his seat and ruffling his hair. "Please. For our sake and yours."

"Our?"

"The whole of Beacon Hills," she quips and Stiles throws a chip at her head.

"You're the worst," he mumbles, getting up and leaving properly now. He feels like he should go and find Derek, figure out what's got him all riled up.

But when he finds him, Derek acts like nothing's happened.

-

Lydia's giving him pitying glances as she looks over the stupid sweater Stiles made him wear. He wore it once last week but has only just been able to bring himself to put it on again.

"You look adorable," she simpers, straightening her fluffy coat with one hand.

Derek hates this. He wants to make Stiles happy, but everybody knows he hates Christmas and so wearing it means everyone makes Scrooge jokes at him and he's getting fed up. He was never very good at being the butt of jokes and he feels himself winding up like a coil in humiliation.

Derek and Lydia are manning the coffee stand at the Christmas fayre the store has sponsored, held in Beacon Hills' town hall. Nobody has bothered to remove their coats because it's clear that the Mayor's run out of money to heat the place and Derek can see his own breath.

"It's freezing in here," he complains, holding a cup of coffee in his hands just to warm them up. "We'd be better off doing this outside."

"The cold air's doing nothing for my hair," Lydia announces and Derek assumes this is her version of agreement. "I should have styled it up, not down. Although it is keeping my neck warm."

Derek's neck is kind of chilly in the absence of a scarf, one which he knows Stiles is wearing right now. But he's okay with that; seeing Stiles wearing any of his clothes gives him a possessive streak he didn't know he had. He imagines Stiles curled up in his bed, one of Derek's shirts hanging off his frame.

"Yes, I probably should have styled mine up as well," he ponders, dodging the slap that Lydia tries to land on his arm.

"Funny," she says dully, not sounding at all amused. "Don't think I can't see you shooting death glares at Erica every other minute."

Derek blanches - was he that obvious? "I don't know what you mean," he insists.

"Derek, only you could be so blind. Erica isn't Stiles' type."

He didn't know Stiles had a type. Had he been gossiping with Lydia about what he found hot? Derek takes a sip of his coffee miserably, imagining all the things Stiles would have listed; long blonde hair, big breasts, smooth hairless skin...

"She doesn't have enough penis," Lydia drops in casually, and Derek spits out his mouthful.

"What?"

Lydia gives a customer hot chocolate with an exhausted-sounding release of breath. "I don't think it could be any more obvious that Stiles is gay unless he walked around holding a sign above his head."

"Stiles is gay?"

"As a picnic basket," she smirks, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Oh," is all he says, trying to appear unaffected. He's sure Lydia can't be right; he would have noticed if Stiles was into guys. And he's seen the way he looks at Erica.

He's been trying not to glare at Erica every time she walks past but it's harder than it looks. Every time he and Stiles are hanging out at work she comes along and drapes herself all over Stiles, and Derek has to resist the urge to reach out and pull Stiles onto his lap and tell her to fuck off. Stiles gushes about how funny she is all the time, oblivious to the way it makes Derek feel sick to his stomach.

But Stiles chooses to ride to work with him, not Erica. And he let Stiles have his scarf. And Stiles bought him a stupid sweater.

"Derek, please," Lydia sniffs, looking at him like he's a small child who is struggling to learn the alphabet. "Anyone can see you're practically in love with him. Just get on with it."

"I'm not -" he begins, before catching Lydia's expression. "Fine. Maybe."

"Finally! ERICA," she calls across the hall, where she and Stiles are selling cupcakes, "HE ADMITTED IT!"

Derek is mortified - how many people know about his feelings for Stiles? Erica's gleeful face tells him that it's probably quite a lot. Stiles looks confused, before spotting Derek and giving him a little wave. Scott looks between both stalls, completely lost. Why does Erica look so pleased, anyway?

"This stall is boring," Lydia announces, simply walking away and leaving Derek to look after her in disbelief. She stalks over to Erica and pulls her to one side, dismissing Stiles with a wave of her perfectly-manecured hand. Stiles pulls a face and ends up shuffling towards Derek, hands in his pockets.

"So what was all that about?" he asks.

"No idea," Derek laughs nervously. "Girl stuff. You know."

"Not really, actually. I find my lack of female anatomy holds me back on that front."

Derek smiles, trying not to think about Stiles' lack of female anatomy. He hands Stiles a black coffee, how he likes it, missing the beaming smile he gets in thanks.

"You're much better without female anatomy," Derek concedes.

"Oh yeah?" Stiles grins.

"I am fairly terrified of both Lydia and Erica. I don't think I could deal with another one. And they'd probably try and force me into worse sweaters than you."

Stiles puffs out his chest and sticks his nose in the air. "I knew you'd appreciate my refined tastes," he drawls. "One is simply devine when it comes to festive fashion."

Derek shakes his head, used to Stiles' antics by now, and grabs him round the neck, rubbing his knuckles across Stiles' head.

"Ow! You get off me right now, Derek Hale. Ouch!" Stiles is actually giggling, pawing at Derek's arms trying to push him off.

"Nope," Derek says simply, pulling his hand out of Stiles' hair. "Only if you stop talking about Christmas."

"Dude," Stiles pants, out of breath, still caught in a headlock. "We're at a Christmas fayre. How the hell am I supposed to stop talking about Christmas?"

"I don't know. I'm sure you'll think of something else to talk my ear off about."

Derek lets go and Stiles gives him a playful shove. He kind of enjoys Stiles' excitedness about the festive season but he just can't get himself into the spirit. Memories of sitting with his family, all of his siblings, and opening their Christmas presents and playing board games and arguing over who got the last roast potatoes haunt him every year and he can't stand it.

This year, though... This year he's been invited to spend the day at the Stilinskis. Stiles had told him that Scott and his mom would be there too, so they'd have a proper dinner with enough people this time rather than three separate lonely ones. He knows the thought entices him, can imagine maybe one day he and Stiles having their own Christmas day together exchanging gifts and kisses. To be honest, the last time he'd bumped into the Sheriff he'd given him a knowing look and simply told him that he'd see him on the 25th.

He'll probably go. 

Stiles actively avoids talking about Christmas for the rest of the fayre and Derek is mildly impressed. Stiles' brain is like a maze and words tend to come out when they're not really supposed to, but he manages to talk about other things the whole time. They've just returned the coffee machine to the woman who owns it in the foyer and are heading towards Derek's car.

"Well that was fun, wasn't it?"

Despite himself, Derek did have a lot of fun with Stiles. He imagines if Lydia hadn't buggered off with Erica he might have ended up clawing either his or her eyes out.

"I did have fun," Derek admits to Stiles, looking him in the eye with a soft expression. Stiles blinks.

"Yeah. Me too."

Derek tries not to allow himself to get his hopes up too much at the fact Stiles is gay. Just because he likes the same gender doesn't automatically mean he'll be attracted to Derek.

"So are you coming to the completely non-holiday related dinner at my house on the 25th?" Stiles asks. Derek wonders if he's always been so facetious.

"Yeah," Derek ventures after a moment, pausing at the foot of the car. "I think I will."

And then Stiles' eyes light up and he rushes forward, knocking into Derek with his arms around his neck, hugging him closely. Derek allows himself to wind his arms around Stiles' waist and hold him tight, hoping that Stiles can't feel his heart beating madly through his chest.

"I knew you would," he says breathlessly into Derek's shoulder. 

"You did?" he repeats dumbly.

Stiles pulls back, his hands sliding along Derek's shoulders and making Derek blink several times to try and hold back his feelings. Stiles is unbearably close, the cold air making his breath visible as it blows into Derek's face. One of Derek's hands is splayed across Stiles' back, holding him steady and fitting perfectly like they've been together for years.

"Of course," Stiles whispers. Derek half closes his eyes, the sound of Stiles' voice vibrating against his lips. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Stiles like it's something he'll never smell again. Opening his eyes properly, he sees that Stiles has closed his own, his cheeks red, and he considers leaning nearer when a car door slams loudly next to them, breaking the spell. They move apart pretty quickly.

"Evening," Allison says knowingly as she gets into her car, smirking.

"Uh, hi," Stiles mutters, rushing around to the passenger's seat. Derek's stomach sinks and they drive all the way to Stiles' house without another word.

"I'll see you on Wednesday," Stiles mumbles, looking down at his lap before opening the door. "Only one week to go!"

Derek doesn't move the car even after Stiles has gone inside. Seven days? Where on earth has the rest of December gone? All he can remember doing is arguing with Stiles about sweaters and being forced into Christmas activities that he would much rather avoid. Had that really taken up the whole month? He pulls away, wondering with dread what he's going to get Stiles for Christmas.

Indeed, the next three days are spent worrying about Christmas gifts. Does he have to get the Sheriff something as well? And what about the McCalls? 

In the end, it's easier to buy for the other three than it is for Stiles. Derek gets John a bottle of whiskey, Scott's mom some chocolates, and Scott the live DVD of the last gig he went to. They sold it in the store, so it wasn't exactly difficult. But Stiles... Derek wants to get him something special. Only he's not entirely sure what he can get and it's too late for delivery now, so he's going to have to actually go shopping.

He's stacking shelves in the cheese section with Scott and tries to casually ask for suggestions for presents.

"So what did you get Stiles for Christmas?" he questions.

Scott looks at him funny, a block of brie in his hand. "Iron Man box set. Why, what did you get?"

"I haven't yet," Derek admits and Scott's face dawns in recognition.

"Ohhhhhh," he says. "And you can't think of what to get him. Um, well. I don't know what to suggest really. Don't get him anything pointless. Get him something he likes, like my Iron Man box set, or something he needs. I don't think he's a big fan of random presents that don't have much thought."

That literally just made Derek's life a lot harder. He avoids talking to Stiles about Christmas for the entire week, not even letting Stiles in on why he's switched his Christmas Eve shift.

"But you don't even like Christmas!" Stiles pouts. "Why aren't you working on Christmas Eve any more? I'll have to drive all by myself."

"I just have some stuff to take care of," Derek shrugs it off, obviously not going to tell Stiles that he has to go and scour the shops for a present.

"Stuff?" Stiles probes, clearly expecting to be told details. Derek does usually tell him everything but he literally can't this time, and when he just nods Stiles' face falls. "Oh. Okay. Have fun. I'll see you Monday. Be at ours for noon."

Derek pulls the most unattractive frustrated face ever when Stiles disappears and digs his thumbs into his eye sockets. He hates upsetting Stiles but this would just totally ruin it, especially as Derek's not supposed to like Christmas.

The shops are close to shutting on Christmas Eve and Derek still hasn't bought anything. He's trawled around for hours, feeling like a complete idiot for putting so much effort into one gift that will probably be forgotten in five minutes, and is just about to give up when he remembers Stiles' words from weeks ago.

"You ruined my hoodie, by the way. It's stained. I'll have to throw it away."

"Sorry," Derek apologises genuinely.

"It's okay," Stiles says loftily. "I suppose you can buy me a new one for Christmas."

So he does.

-

When the front door of the Stilinski house opens, Derek tries to pretend he hasn't been stood there for five minutes debating whether or not to ring the doorbell. He doesn't want to be the awkward outsider, considering that the Stilinskis and the McCalls have known each other for years, and especially since he's apparently a Scrooge.

But John welcomes him in like an old friend, clapping him on the back and tell him to join them in the lounge while he checks on dinner, which isn't quite ready. When he walks in Scott and his mom are engaged in a serious game of connect 4, while Stiles watches on in glee. His perfect smile is so wide that Derek can't help but stare for a few seconds before he announces his presence.

"Oh, Derek. Hey!" Stiles calls from the sofa. "Come sit down."

He pats the seat next to him and Derek holds up the bag of gifts he's brought.

"What should I do with these?"

Mrs McCall looks up at his question and her face breaks into a welcoming grin. "Oh that is lovely of you, Derek," she says. "We haven't exchanged gifts yet so if you pop them over there we can open them after dinner."

"No problem," he nods, putting them next to the tree before settling beside Stiles.

"How's your allergy doing?" Stiles asks gently, a sympathetic look on his face. Derek looks sideways at Scott to see if this is some kind of prank, but Scott's staring tensely at the connect 4 grid.

"My allergy?"

"Yeah," Stiles says casually, waving his hand through the air. "You know, since you're allergic to Christmas I was just wondering how your - OW, okay, okay!"

Derek had grabbed his waving hand and crushed the fingers in his palm, hearing Stiles' knuckles crack within his grip. He lets go, laughing, and the Sheriff walks into the room.

"Dinner's ready."

Stiles couldn't have possibly run any faster into the kitchen if he'd tried. Scott isn't far behind and John and Melissa exchange glances, rolling their eyes. Derek's ushered into the kitchen by Melissa and then he's sat next to Stiles and opposite Scott. The table is laid out beautifully and Derek spots a picture of a woman who can only be Stiles' mom on the kitchen side nearby. His chest aches; he misses his family.

"I'd like to say a few words before we start," John announces, earning himself a groan from Stiles. "Shush. First of all, I'm thankful that we're all here and able to share the day together. I know Christmas can be a difficult time for all of us and we aren't able to share it with everybody we'd like to, but I hope that today will be great for all of us."

Derek is looking down at his plate, a lump in his throat at John's words. He nods at him gratefully, ushering him to continue.

"Even though parts of our families are missing, we can make the most of today with each other."

"Dad, can we just eat now?" Stiles cuts in impatiently, but Derek can see that John's speech has put a lump in Stiles' throat too.

John laughs. "Yes, Stiles. Tuck in everyone."

The food is delicious and Derek has no qualms about telling John this multiple times. The awkwardness he'd been worrying about is virtually non-existent, with Melissa asking him about his time at college and John discussing Derek's potential as a cop.

"Please," Stiles scoffs. "As if Derek could be a cop. I'd be better than he would."

"Actually," John says thoughtfully. "I think he'd be perfect. He's certainly got the right build and he's got a sensible head on him. What did you major in at college?"

Derek is a little embarrassed at all the attention. "Criminology," he mutters.

"Great!" John grins, looking at Stiles as if to say 'I told you so'. "You let me know if you ever need a let in. I'll be happy to discuss applications with you."

Stiles scowls. "Dad, leave the guy alone. He's going to work at the store with me forever."

Derek snorts. Yeah, because he wants to work at Walmart for the rest of his life. The Sheriff doesn't look to pleased with Stiles' statement either.

"I thought you were saving up for college?"

"Well, yeah, I am," Stiles backtracks. "I mean, I've graduated high school already. I can't work at Walmart forever. Just for a while longer."

"That's what I thought," John says, finishing off his plate with one last enormous bite.

Stiles takes seconds, not that Derek's surprised, and Scott does too. Stiles is actually going in for thirds when his dad interrupts.

"Stiles, if you don't stop eating you won't be able to manage dessert," he scolds with a wink. Stiles' jaw drops like he's just remembered something and he scrambles from the dining table into the kitchen. Scott grins excitedly.

Derek's contentedly full, leaning back in his chair with a hand resting over his stomach, when he hears it. Stiles is singing and the words get stuck in Derek's brain as he tries to process them, sure he's not hearing the right thing. But then the Sheriff and the McCalls join in.

"Happy birthday to you..."

Stiles wanders back in from the kitchen with a birthday cake, complete with an array of lit candles (Stiles should not be allowed near open flames), which he just about manages to get onto the table without dropping it.

"... happy birthday dear Derek, happy birthday to you!"

Derek can feel that his mouth has literally dropped open as he stares down at the birthday cake. How the hell did they all know? And why didn't they let on that they knew? Nobody had remembered his birthday in years and while the attention is embarrassing he can't help but be overwhelmed by the gesture.

"Well go on, blow them out," Stiles tuts and Derek complies, leaning forward in his seat and extinguishing the candles in one gust.

"How did you know?" is all he can say, looking around at them all in shock. They're grinning madly, like they've been planning this surprise for weeks and it's paid off like they wanted it to.

"Your birthday's on record," the Sheriff says with a conspiratorial wink. "And Stiles knew anyway."

Derek glances over at Stiles, who gives an embarrassed smile. "I'm not a stalker, I promise," Stiles rushes, making Melissa laugh.

"Sure," he smirks, cutting the first slice of cake. Once they're finished they laze around for a few minutes with painfully full stomachs, pulling faces at one another because they've eaten too much food. But Stiles can't hold back any longer and shouts out excitedly.

"Presents!"

John cracks open the whiskey right away ("Not too much, Dad.") and Melissa makes delighted noises every time she tries a different chocolate. Scott's face lights up at the concert DVD ("Awesome!").

When Stiles opens his gift, he just stares down at it for a few seconds with a huge smile on his face.

"You told me to," Derek shrugs, pleased with Stiles' reaction.

"You remembered that?" Stiles asks incredulously.

"I did ruin your last one. And this way you'll be warm without ever having to wear that horrible snowman sweater ever again."

The room erupts into laughter as Stiles fake-scowls, but he puts the hoodie on right away anyway, zipping it up happily. Derek recieves joint birthday-Christmas presents from Scott, John and Melissa (not that he actually expected any at all, and recieving his first present in about six years almost brings a tear to his eye). Stiles gives him a DVD and a book, but whispers to him when the rest of the room are in debate over whether or not they should watch just one or both Home Alone movies.

"I'll give you your birthday present later."

Derek nods.

Several hours later, after only one Home Alone movie and an argumentative game of charades (turns out Derek is much better than Scott predicted), Derek is heading out to his car to go home. Stiles has followed him out of the house, chattering blandly with Derek's birthday present behind his back.

"I didn't wrap it or anything because effort," Stiles dismisses.

"Because effort," Derek repeats.

"Exactly!" Stiles says with a grin. "Now it's not that much but..."

He pulls out his hands from behind his back, which hold an expensive-looking scarf that also looks super warm.

"... Because I stole your old one and I don't want to give it back."

He leans up to wrap it around Derek's neck, taking longer than he really should, and Derek revels in the touch of Stiles' body against his own, the way his hand brushes momentarily over Derek's cheek. Stiles adjusts it accordingly and then leans in closer, making Derek's heart skip a beat.

"Happy birthday," he whispers, before reaching up and planting a kiss on Derek's cheek. Before Derek can do anything but stare in surprise, Stiles is already going back through his front door.

-

Stiles doesn't see Derek until the 29th when they're both back at work. He's eternally embarrassed that he kissed Derek on the cheek (he actually did that, he remembers with a groan) and does his absolute best not to mention it.

When Derek gets into the Jeep he's wearing the new scarf and smiles at Stiles like it's the best present ever. Stiles facepalms internally. Maybe he should have got Derek something better than a scarf.

"What's the matter with you?" Derek asks. Stiles isn't sure what to say.

"Nothing, I'm just tired," he bluffs, ignoring the concerned look Derek is giving him. He's aware that to Derek he's blowing hot and cold, kissing him and then barely talking, but he can hardly figure things out in his own head, let alone actually with Derek.

All day Stiles tries be normal with Derek but he keeps remembering what he did and cursing himself. Christmas day had been so perfect. He remembers last year, when it was just him and his dad, and how boring it had been. Of course he'd loved his dad's company, but it was just too quiet.

This year had been awesome, hanging out with the McCalls and trying not to make it obvious to everyone in the room that he fancied the pants off Derek. He hoped it had worked.

"Why are you being weird with Derek?" Erica hisses at Stiles through a tray of yogurts. 

"I'm not being weird," he whispers back and a yogurt falls onto his head. "Am I supposed to believe that just fell off the tray itself?"

"Yes. Anyway, you're being weird. Is it because you fancy the pants off him?"

Stiles drops the chocolate mousse he's holding. "For god's sake!" he grumbles. "Stop shouting that around, he'll hear you."

"Thank the lord," Erica emphasises, staring up at the ceiling and pulling her hands together in prayer. "Please, somebody tell Derek that Stiles fanc-"

"Shut UP!" Stiles cries, slapping a hand over her mouth. She licks his palm evilly and he yelps, pulling it away and wiping it on his shirt. "Ew!"

"Don't mess with me, Stilinski," she warns. "Well even if you aren't going to tell him, stop being strange. Look at him next time you see him. He looks like you've kicked him in the balls."

Stiles continues to mutter curse words under his breath but he knows that Erica's right, he is being a bit strange around him. Part of him wants to declare his love to the world and the other, more dominant half wants to shield it forever, put it in a box with a padlock and bury it ten feet in the ground.

"Whatcha doing on New Year's Eve?" she prompts a few minutes later. 

Stiles, as usual, hasn't been invited anywhere. He's pretty sure that his dad and Melissa are going to be spending some time together (it's both super cute and super gross at the same time) and he doesn't even know what Scott's doing.

"Nothing," he mutters miserably.

"Wrong," Erica sings. "I'm throwing a huge party at mine. And I mean huge. Everyone's invited, as well as my high school friends and my college friends -"

"You didn't even go to college," Stiles interrupts, scratching his head.

"- and my running friends and my salon friends and -"

"Okay, I get the message," he points out, holding up his hands in surrender.

"- and most importantly, Derek will be there," Erica grins.

"Fantastic."

Stiles wants the ground to eat him up. The only thing more embarrassing than having an unrequited crush on the hottest dude in town is having everyone else know that you've got an unrequited crush on said hottest dude in town.

Erica continues to 'accidentally' drop yogurts onto his head, so much so that Stiles actually gets a bruise.

"Do you mind?" he asks in a falsely polite voice.

"Not at all, my dear," she replies in a similar tone. "Take these back to the chiller, will you? We're not going to fit any more of these on the shelf."

"Sure."

Stiles sets the mostly empty trolley into motion, wheeling it carefully down the aisle so as not to knock down any old ladies. He wouldn't mind bowling Erica down with it, but she's already moved away before he can set the plan in motion. 

He's pulling the metal trolley (which is taller than he is) through the door to the chiller when he hears two people talking in angry, hushed tones. 

"I told you not to go on about it, Lydia. What if he hears?"

"'What if he hears?' What if he hears that you would like to push him against the wa-"

"Hello?"

Silence rings through room, echoing against the cold hard walls.

"Hello, Stiles," Lydia says sweetly. She and Derek are sat taking inventory and apparently bickering over what Derek would like to do to someone.

"Um, hi," he grumbles, feeling dejected. Derek's looking at him in horror and he fiddles with the top of a chocolate mousse.

"What are you doing in here?" is all Derek says. Stiles is taken aback by his bluntness.

"I was just returning stock," he bites back, shoving the trolley forwards and stalking out. "Don't let me get in your way."

He feels sick for the rest of the day. Things are going awry when just a few days ago he'd been on top of the world. He's sure he and Derek are just being stupid, probably have seen too much of each other recently and are starting to grate on each other. Maybe if they just chill out a bit, if Stiles stops worrying so much about his crush, then things will go back to how they were before.

Derek disappears before Stiles can drive him home that evening and he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel crushed. He's not sure what he's done to push Derek away, except being slightly quiet that morning, so he doesn't try to resolve the issue. 

Work is unbearable for the next two days. He actively tries to avoid Lydia and Erica, who are becoming ruthless in their attempts at outing him, as well as Derek. The only person he can bear talking to is Scott, who is cluelessly confused every time that Stiles ducks behind him to hide from someone.

"Dude, what's going on?"

"I just don't want to talk to some people today. I've had several fallings out."

"Fallings out? What are you, like twelve? Just man up and sort it out."

Stiles neglects to point out that he hasn't actually fallen out with Lydia or Erica and he's in fact lusting after Derek Hale who is for some reason being funny with him so he's trying not to talk to him.

Because that would be lame.

"So what time are you getting to Erica's party tonight?" Scott asks across the table in the canteen. Derek isn't in here, probably at their usual table in the staff room with his packed lunch.

"Not sure," Stiles thinks aloud. "I have to sort out what I'm going to wear. If I don't turn up smart Erica will probably shoot me."

Scott's mouth hangs open. "Does that mean I have to dress smart too?"

"Yes, Scott," Stiles says, rolling his eyes. "It's a party. A big one. I'm sure Allison will be wearing a pretty dress. You don't want to look out of place next to her, right?"

Stiles can literally see Scott's brain working and smiles fondly. "Well, no."

"There you go then."

"So are you taking anyone?" Scott drops in.

"What, like a date?" Stiles asks casually, hoping to high hell that Scott is still the only totally oblivious friend that he has.

"Yeah. Dunno if you've had time to meet anyone recently, but you never know."

"Scotty, don't you think if I'd met the girl of my dreams I'd have told you all about it by now?" Stiles says, metaphorically crossing his fingers behind his back. There's no need to tell Scott it's the guy of his dreams instead.

"Of course," Scott groans. "I had to put up with you talking about Amber for the whole of middle school -"

Stiles throws his hands into the air. "Come on, man, I thought we were bros! We never mention that again, remember?"

"Whatever you say," Scott smirks.

"Shut up or I'll hide your shirt for tonight," Stiles mutters.

-

Erica wasn't kidding when she said there were going to be a lot of people at her party. Her house is huge and people are already spilling out onto the lawn, drinks in hand. Stiles curses at not being old enough to buy drinks for himself yet and fights his way inside.

He'd taken a long time to get dressed and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't trying to think about which shirt Derek would prefer. He's wearing smart, dark skinny jeans and a tight-fitting dress shirt, done all the way up to his neck. He looks every inch the preppy geek and he knows it, hair styled to perfection. All he has to do now is find Derek.

"You made it," Erica calls approvingly over the music. "And look at you. If you weren't taken I'd just want to eat you up. Grr," she growls, snaking her fingers out like claws.

"I'm not taken," Stiles mutters. "But I'd still rather you didn't."

"You don't fool me, Stilinski. No man can resist these charms," she claims, waving her hands towards her breasts. Stiles determinedly looks away. "Oh you are so cute," Erica simpers when she notices, pinching his cheek. "What a little gentleman."

"I am leaving before this gets any more horrifying," Stiles announces loudly, talking over anything Erica might be attempting to say. He weaves past her and further into the house, wondering if Derek's here yet. Thinking over Scott's suggestion that he take a date with him, his stomach drops as he imagines that Derek might have brought someone with him.

Stiles arrived later than expected, having spent so long debating over shirts, so it's already ten thirty and people are pretty drunk. For some reason they enjoy being so intoxicated that they can't actually remember the moment that the new year breaks in. 

Sighing at the lack of Derek he's seen so far, he leaves the room he's in and walks down the hall, where he quite literally bumps into Derek coming out of the kitchen.

"Oh, sorry," he flusters, before he looks up and pauses. Derek's staring down at him like he's never seen him before, raking his eyes down Stiles in such a way that Stiles feels like squirming. Derek's wearing black trousers, with an open collar and sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. Casual but fuck, it's sexy.

"You - you look good," Derek stutters out, and Stiles feels his entire body heat up.

"Thanks. Not so bad yourself."

Stiles can't stop himself from looking at the casual way Derek's shirt is rolled up, his strong arms just so close to being able to wrap themselves around Stiles and pull him close. He's still staring at Derek a minute later when he realises that Derek's still staring at him too.

"Um - would you like a drink?" Derek asks awkwardly.

Stiles refrains from saying 'No, I want you'.

"Yeah, man."

"Right this way, good sir," Derek says with an exaggerated bow, holding out one of his arms for Stiles to take like a medieval fairytale.

"Thank you, m'lady," Stiles counters, slipping his hand through Derek's arm and resting it on the warm skin of his exposed arm. He tries to act like it's casual but knows that to everyone else in the room, Stiles looks like he's Derek's.

"Here," Derek shoves a beer into Stiles' hand. "Don't have too many. I draw the line at holding your hair back while you're vomiting in Erica's toilet."

Stiles smiles widely. The weirdness from a few days before seems to have been forgotten as they banter back and forth. He does want to know why Derek flipped out on him in the chiller, but he supposes that it might be something getting to Derek that he doesn't want to talk about right now.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew it was my birthday?" Derek asks out of the blue, as they're sat in Erica's backyard looking out over the enormous lawn.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Stiles replies, as if it were obvious. "I know it must be hard for you at Christmas with everything that's happened, and on top of that everyone forgets it's your birthday. Someone's gotta remind you that you're special."

Derek scoffs beside him and Stiles feels that sad pity again that Derek doesn't realise that people actually care about him.

"What, you don't think that you are?" Stiles asks, his tone almost angry. "Derek, when did you become so dense? I hate listening to you putting yourself down all the time because you're really frickin awesome. In fact, you're actually one of the most awesome people I've ever met and I wish you'd get that."

Stiles is out of breath, finished trying to stick that truth into Derek's head. If he's too stubborn to listen then Stiles can't do much about it.

"I'll never be as amazing as you," Derek says quietly, lifting one hand to stroke at his stubble, trying to hide his insecurity. "You're just this happy ball of fun all the time. I didn't want anything to do with anyone before you came along and you just wormed your way into my life like you were always supposed to be there. I think you were."

Stiles' heart is beating like crazy, jumping up and down into his throat until he's so nervously excited he feels sick.

"Maybe I was," he agrees. "I think you would have gone mad working with Erica and Lydia without me."

Derek lifts one corner of his mouth. "I can say that I would have for definite. And my Christmas would have been boring. Speaking of Lydia, did you see her yet?"

He cranes his neck through the back doors, attempting to find Lydia's red hair within the mass of people. Stiles is kinda glad he hasn't bumped into her yet, especially when he's with Derek.

"No, thankfully," Stiles says in a dark tone. "I had enough with Erica trying to devour me as soon as I got into the house. 'Oh you are so cute, I just want to eat you up'. Bleurgh."

He gives a shudder, remembering Erica's breasts thrusting into his face.

"I thought you liked Erica," Derek says quietly, looking casually into the distance. Stiles wants to smack him on the forehead and tell him to stop being such a complete idiot.

"I told you a million times, dude, she's not my type. Too much vagina," he adds, snorting at the look that jumps onto Derek's face. "Don't choke, man."

Derek looks like he just swallowed something down the wrong way. Stiles bites back his laughter.

"You thought I liked Erica? Dude, you're totally blind. Anyone can tell that I'm not really into girls."

"I couldn't," Derek mumbles. "Lydia did mention something at the Christmas fayre. I thought she was pulling my leg."

"Why would she do that?" Stiles asks, screwing up his nose. Derek shrugs it off, not really giving him any answer. There's nothing really fun about making up rumours about someone's sexuality, even for Lydia.

"We should go back inside," Derek mutters some minutes later, standing up. "It's nearly midnight and Erica might possibly kill us if she doesn't get to hug us."

"Yeah," Stiles agrees, looking up at Derek's proffered hand. He takes it, enjoying the way Derek's hand envelops his own smaller one, protecting it with his long fingers. "Thanks," he adds breathlessly, his hand still inside Derek's.

"Any time," Derek murmurs, not letting go of Stiles as he leads him into the house. They trawl around for a few minutes and spot Scott and Allison in the lounge. Allison waves in welcome, an enormous drunken grin on her face.

"Hey man, I've not seen you all night," Scott welcomes, blinking rapidly. Stiles suspects that Scott's had too many beers. 

"You've probably been busy with Miss Argent here," Stiles gives a conspiratorial wink, causing Allison to giggle. "Nearly time for the countdown, huh? I think we can all guess who you'll be kissing."

Scott looks down at Stiles' hand, still entwined with Derek's, and his brow furrows in intoxicated confusion. "Why are you -"

"STILES!" comes Lydia's shrill yell. "Come on, Erica wants you!"

"Ten, nine, eight..." the room begins chanting, people fretting around trying to find their friends.

Lydia grabs his arm and starts dragging him away from the others. Stiles' hand is pulled from Derek's and he looks back at Derek, Scott and Allison with a helpless expression on his face. He desperately wants to be next to Derek, to be able to kiss him with the excuse of the new year in case it doesn't go how he wants it to.

"But - Lydia -" he protests, trying to edge out of her death grip.

"She's so excited to show you," Lydia is saying, before she spills her entire cup of wine over Erica's rug.

"How much have you had to drink?" Stiles asks, wrinkling up his nose. "Just let me go, Lydia, I have to -"

"Two, one... Happy New Year!"

The room erupts into cheers, people shouting and people kissing and throwing their drinks into the air. Stiles takes one last glimpse back into the room, where Derek is staring after him awkwardly, Scott and Allison clamped at the mouth next to him. Stiles' heart sinks at his lost chance. He's got this feeling in his stomach that tells him things might have worked out for the better.

Stiles tries yank his arm from Lydia's hands angrily but she holds on tightly. She finally manages locate Erica among the throng of people that are using the fact that it's a different year than it was twenty seconds ago to get even more wasted. 

"Oh there you are!" Erica giggles. She's being held up by a tall, muscled black dude who simply nods in welcome.

"What?" Stiles snaps, wondering what could be so important that she dragged him away from Derek at such a vital point in the evening.

"I want you to meet my boyfriend," she slurs. "This is Boyd."

"Hi," Stiles says shortly, giving Boyd a returning nod. "Is this all you wanted me for? You dragged me away from Derek at midnight so I missed the countdown so I could meet your boyfriend? No offense," he adds to Boyd, who shrugs understandably. "Thanks a lot, guys. You just ruined my fucking night."

Erica and Lydia exchange glances of horror. "Were you and Derek finally gonna get it together?!"

"I don't know!" he half-shouts over the music. "But really, thanks for taking away my opportunity!"

And he leaves.

-

Stiles storms up to him in the staff room and slaps the t-shirt he's about to put on out of his hands, slamming his locker door for good measure. Derek's taken aback, unsure of what's got Stiles so riled up.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

Oh. That'll be why.

Derek had taken the Sheriff's offer from Christmas day and filled in some application forms that John gave him. As daunting as it sounded, joining the police force sounded like something Derek could get into. He'd always been interested in policing, hence his degree in Criminology, and he thought he might as well put it to some use. Plus he's pretty sure Stiles would appreciate the uniform.

Handing in notice at the store was mandatory, so he told them 3 weeks in advance of when he began his training. Only he hadn't been sure how to tell Stiles.

"It's not for a few weeks yet -" he begins, but Stiles cuts him off.

"And you weren't going to tell me?"

"I was," Derek sighs, shutting the door to his locker properly. He's very aware of his bare chest and the fact that Stiles is very deliberately trying not to look at it.

Stiles scoffs, folding his arms. "Really? Any time soon?"

"I was, I promise," Derek mutters, running his hand down his face. He knew he should have told Stiles earlier, but he just couldn't face letting him down. "I just - I thought you'd be upset."

Stiles tries to keep his angry expression on his face while he thinks of a response, which only makes Derek want to laugh, and laughing at Stiles right now would be disasterous.

"Well I was going to be upset either way, wasn't I?" Stiles throws out eventually. "There was no need to hide it from me."

His voice is quiet, needy as he stares down at the tshirt Derek dropped on the floor. Derek knows he's just feeling insecure about his importance to Derek because he didn't tell him he was going.

"I didn't want to ruin our fun in the last few weeks," he admits. "I know you'll be all mopey and boring in my absence and I really can't put up with mopey Stiles."

"Oh ha ha," Stiles says drily, smacking Derek on the arm, but Derek can see the reluctant grin he's trying to hold back. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"So you're not going to talk to me anymore once we stop working together?" Derek asks, and Stiles' head whips up so fast Derek suspects he might have whiplash.

"I never said that! I thought you - why would you want to hang around with an 18-year-old kid? I'll probably just embarrass you."

Derek's chest aches a little bit. Stiles thinks that Derek will think he's too cool for Stiles when he leaves and becomes a cop, when in reality Derek doesn't really have many other friends. And there's no-one else but Stiles he wants to be around 24/7.

"You're a moron," he laughs, bending down to pick up his shirt. "I don't even know why you'd think that."

"Because I'm scared I'll lose you?" Stiles mumbles almost inaudibly, and Derek drops the shirt again.

"Stiles," he murmurs, reaching forward slowly. He slides his hand down the pale skin on Stiles' forearm, his fingers finding Stiles' and entwining themselves around them. Stiles stares at their joined hands. "You'll never lose me."

"Are you sure?" he asks. Derek can see the uncertainty on his face, the fear of being hurt or rejected. He'd wanted to tell Stiles at Erica's party how much he meant to Derek but he'd been too scared. The words just wouldn't come out, and then Lydia dragged Stiles away before he could steal a new year's kiss. Stiles hadn't returned, leaving Derek afraid that Stiles didn't want him, so he walked home by himself.

"I wouldn't lie to you, Stiles," he promises, daring to lean in further and move his other hand towards Stiles, who watches it entranced as it rests on Stiles' hip and pulls him closer.

"Yeah," Stiles says, looking up into Derek's face. Stiles' eyes are uncertain, his lips slightly parted, almost killing Derek when his tongue pokes out to wet them.

"Stiles, there's some things I should really tell you," he begins, almost tripping over his words in anxiety. "I want to spend all my Christmases with you from now on. I want you to buy me stupid sweaters and force me to wear them. I want you to go to college and tell all the guys that hit on you to back off."

Stiles isn't blinking, his brown eyes wide as he stares back into Derek's.

"I want to tell Lydia to piss off next December 31st so you can be my new year's kiss. I want you."

The first time in his life that he's rendered speechless is the one time Derek wants Stiles to say something back. He's lost for words, mouth gaping as he tries to put what he's thinking into works.

"Derek, I - I love you," he breathes.

That's all the prompting Derek needs. He lets go of Stiles' hand and curls his fingers around his neck, guiding him forwards as Stiles slides his arms around Derek's shoulders. It's like wearing the scarf Stiles bought him for his birthday, knowing who it's from and soaking in its warmth, except a whole lot better. 

He kisses Stiles hungrily, like he's been waiting for months (which he has) and has been denied for too long. Stiles makes a little moaning sound when Derek bites at his bottom lip, sending a jolt through him before he slams Stiles against the locker next to him. Stiles licks his way into his mouth, his tongue poking at Derek's playfully, before he grips Derek's neck tightly and hitches himself up, wrapping first one leg and then the other around Derek's waist.

"Fuck," Derek groans into Stiles' mouth, cupping Stiles' ass with his hands and pulling him higher up the locker.

"No hanky panky in the staff room," Allison fake-scolds from where she's just entered, surprising Derek so much that he almost drops Stiles. They both turn to look at her, guilt written all over their faces, when Scott pokes his head around the side of Allison. His face is a picture, jaw almost at the floor.

"Dude!" he exclaims, totally baffled. "Since when were you two into each other?"

Derek figures that the only person more oblivious to Derek and Stiles' liking each other than Derek and Stiles is Scott, and puts Stiles down with a nervous laugh.

"Since always?" he offers, scratching the back of his head.

"Honestly, Scott, how didn't you notice?" Erica shakes her head as she passes through with a milkshake in her hand. "We've been trying to make them see it for months. Almost ruined it on New Year's Eve," she adds, with an exaggerated 'whoops-a-daisy' grimace.

"Yeah, you did," Stiles narrows his eyes. "I almost slashed Lydia's throat."

"Oh don't do that," Allison begs. "She's the only person who can deal with the delivery man that keeps bringing the wrong stock."

"Yeah, we all know how she deals with him," Stiles mutters with raised eyebrows and everyone laughs.

"I think he brings wrong stock on purpose now," Scott adds, raising more chuckles from the room.

Derek doesn't let go of Stiles' hand, which he took once he'd removed Stiles from his place against the locker. Nobody except Scott seemed shocked and nobody was bothered at all, releasing a weight that had settled within his chest. No-one thought they weren't right together or that Derek was too old. In fact, Erica and Allison kept shooting them smiles brimming with animated happiness, obviously trying to contain their excitement.

"Oh Derek, you lucky thing," Erica winks, looking up from her phone where she is presumably texting Boyd. "Taking Stiles all for yourself. Where can we get one?"

"Sorry, all Stiles are now out of stock," Stiles grins, turning to Derek and demanding another kiss. Derek is only too happy to oblige, crushing Stiles against his still bare chest.

"Please," Erica rolls her eyes. "Get a room. If I ever walk in and see Stilinski mounted against the lockers again I'm going to vom everywhere."

"Got it," Stiles says with a wink, glancing at Derek. "Think the chiller's free?"

"No!" comes Erica's choked yell.


End file.
